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After The War

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After The War

Post by Expatcat on Wed Feb 17, 2010 9:13 pm

Journal #1 (Prologue)



It is the year 5400. Humankind has advanced, but is no more civilized than before. It's a miracle we managed to hold off another World War for this long. It seems all the years were spent preparing for this moment. 80% of all money was spent on weapons and war effort, as minor war after minor war occurred.

The U.S.A lost its threat somewhere in there, everyone else caught up due to an economic crash around the year 3000. That was when the world changed. The stronger nations decided to make their move. However, the U.S. still had the upper hand in military force. It crippled the other armies. One thing lead to another, the strong attack the weak, the strong become the weak. Then your back at the beginning, getting attacked by the strong. Those are the rules. This was the start of the endless war.

World War III. I dont even know if you can compare it to I and II. It was twice as devastating as both combined, and lasted over 1000 years. It was the greatest war in history. Everyone got involved. There were no neutrals. When a war lasts that long with no result, It's time to quit. It was probably time to quit 900 years before that. But it raged for all those 1000 years, and all nations were turned to rubble. The earth was scarred, and no victor emerged. Everyone had to cease fire in order to keep their nations together. It marked the end of the war.

However, as hard as we tried, we could not recover. The damage was too great, through war we had managed to kill ourselves off. The innocent died from disease and wounds. But did we learn our lesson? Had we not seen what fighting causes? People broke off from their poor nations and joined together... forming the Rebels. They began to attack nations who could not afford more battle. There was no choice but to fight back, or watch your nation burn. The Human Race is addicted to the drug we call war. Those small attacks were all it took, and it all started up again.

This time, nobody even bothers considering it a war. It has become so common, these minor fights, burning countries, cities destroyed. We know no other lifestyle. What used to be of our race is gone. There is no resting easy anymore, there is no time for games or slacking. Cities have been rebuilt into Military Bases, all of them. All residents are recruited in the military. Children begin training at the age of 6, and before that taken care of by soldiers. That is only the men, though. Women have a role too. Certain women are selected, or volunteered, to reproduce. It is no longer done for enjoyment, or the thrill of having a son. Women are assigned a man to reproduce with, and it is likely those two will never see each other again. It is their role to keep new soldiers coming... some women fight it, others accept it. It is a role, men fight, women "make" fighters. It's all about fighting. The entire planet had become a war zone.

It was not the future you expected, with flying cars and chrome cities. No, the air filled with smog, and nobody bothered to clean the rubble from the streets. Sunlight wasn't common anymore, these were dark, dark times. Weapons were the only thing that actually seemed to be advancing in complexity. There was no happy living, laughing, or time for fun. Only drills and training day after day. Cities attacked constantly from different Rebel groups and other nations. What do we hope to accomplish with all this war? War. That word has a new meaning to me, to everyone. War has changed. I fought in these "wars." They consider me a hero just because i manage to stay alive, because i use my wits before i start blowing everything to pieces. Our race has taken a huge leap backwards when it comes to thinking. Now I am worshipped because I am one of the few who sees through all of this.

This is my first journal of many, signing off.


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I finished the entry in my journal, and closed it. When my journals were completed i planned to send them back in time, which was surprisingly possible. Time Travelers are fools, though. I know the future cannot be avoided, that was made clear . When someone changes the past, the past adapts itself to make sure the same future will always come. It's a one way ticket. There are no time travel devices in the past, so you have no way of getting back. Traveling through time became illegal many years ago, I am the only one left. I managed to convince my superiors to let me send small objects back in time. I have no reason to go back myself, despite its condition, this is my home.

But i wanted people to know of this world, my home. i wanted people to know who I was, am, and will be. The nameless war hero. I have never revealed my name. Names can be used against you. I am the legendary soldier, and the only one that understands the terrible situation we are in. I drop the book into the capsule, watch it fly into another time. Standing up, i walk to the large window, and gaze and the smog filled war city. Nobody gets it, nobody understands. This is their life, why think about anything else? This is all they know. I walked outside, and several soldiers run up, all talking at once, reporting the status of the nation. To me, they're all the same. The status is no different. Attacks coming, what else does anyone need to know? There are always attacks coming. Size doesn't matter to me, we either lose or we win in my opinion. Those are no alternatives. Turning away, I slowly walk through the streets, preparing for what is to come in the near future. A regular routine, on my part.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Last edited by Expatcat on Wed Feb 17, 2010 9:29 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: After The War

Post by Expatcat on Wed Feb 17, 2010 9:13 pm

Journal #2




So much has happened since my last journal. I can barely comprehend the events that have taken place over the last two weeks. So i must start from the beginning.

I have few friends, in this new world. A friend is someone who understands you, and most fail to understand me. But there is one, Mike Ferguson. An ordinary name In a not-so-ordinary time. We met regularly and discussed the corruption that we have come to know so well. Mike is also a great fighter, but refuses to show it in battle. That is our only difference.

As usual, I wake up to the familiar sirens. Under attack. Again. I immediately gear up and jog outside. Protesting the war does no good here, so I choose to fight for my nation. I know, it makes me sound quite hypocritical... but it is the best I can do for what I have always called Home.

Another few days filled with battles. Men die, but the city does not. But it was on the 5th day everything I have ever known changed. Again, the alarm. Gearing up and running out. Little enthusiasm. I do not feed off of the battle adrenalin like everyone else here, perhaps that is what keeps them fighting.

It is when I take a look at the situation, I am frightened. Being afraid is something new to me, I have not felt it in many years. But seeing the enemy inside the city perimeter, is something to be afraid of. Jumping down from my balcony, I run to join the fight. No soldiers are running up to me this time.

It is clear the battle was lost. There is no retreating, they have us surrounded. Like the idiots we are, we keep fighting. Only a handful of us left. I refuse to stop fighting.

Everything is black. I can barely see... Trying to open my eyes and get a good look, I can see the city burning. Everything I have ever known, burning. This was not the life I wanted. Emotion is the downfall of a soldier, but i felt a tear in my eye; As I see the body of my good friend Mark burning in a mound. Rest In Peace. This is war.

They have taken me to a fort, one I did not even know existed. Who were these bastards?! Rebels? I pushed revenge from my mind, I would not let them get the best of me. There are other survivors, I can only hope they have the will I do.

Torture. Pure torture. I try to hold back, to stay in control, but it is too much. My screams echo back at me, rubbing my own cowardice in my face. Showing I am no match for these people. They have not killed me, but I want them to.

Everyone is dead. Survivors, are dead. The torture was too much for them. Watching these sick fools drag out bodies, laughing. The monsters. One question remains, WHY AM I ALIVE?!

More torture, but still no death comes. I want to give in, but they do not allow it. Everyone else is gone. Do they know who I am? Is that why they do this? Do I know who I am? The old me is fading.

Insanity. Even when there is no torture I scream. Hitting the walls until my knuckles are red with blood. For very short periods can I control myself. This mind does not belong me, this is the mind of a coward. My mind was lost long ago.

I write this journal from my cell. Hot-wiring into time is no easy feat, but i have nothing better to do. I expect more torture soon. This place is a hell-hole.

Until next time, if I haven't charged a concrete wall by then, Yours Truly.


_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I threw the journal into the small time hole, and watched it collapse seconds after. It is impossible to create a stable time hole, but what did I have to lose if it went wrong? Voices echoes down the corridor. Playtime. I begin to cry, and then scream.
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Re: After The War

Post by Expatcat on Wed Feb 17, 2010 9:14 pm

Journal #3



I will tell you right now that... that...I... i am safe. What is safe? A month ago that word had a different meaning than it does now. Before, as long as I was in my city, I was safe. How wrong could I have been? Safety is all in your head. It is a phase of the mind. There is never physical safety, nobody is ever truly safe.

For a month, i was trapped in that hell-hole. An entire month. By the end of it, I was more than ready to die. Hell, I was ready to die on the first week. Insanity gripped me, it changed me, there was no escaping it. I can recall almost nothing since I wrote my last journal, and nor do I want to.

Then everything happened at once. At first, I thought it was the end of my road. Perhaps I was finally dying, an idea I welcomed. There were loud noises that deafened me, and I stared In wonder as I watched the blinding lights encompass the room. Was this the light people see when they die? Another light, and yet another. These lights... I wanted to go to them. I wanted them to embrace me, and accept me. I let myself give into them, I stopped struggling. I could see nothing, there was only white.

But then they stopped coming, the lights faded, I could see, and reality hit me. I was still in my cell, or at least what was left of it. There was blood, everywhere. I put my hand to my forehead, feeling something sticky. Taking a look at my hand, I saw more blood. Then my hearing came back. Screams echoed everywhere, but who would be screaming? As far as I knew, everyone that came with me had been killed off a long time ago. Was there another group of hostages? Trying to stand, I gripped the bricks on the wall and pulled myself up. Once on my feet, I did not make it very far, and slid back onto the ground.

Finally the screaming stopped, just as suddenly as it began. Followed by rapid footsteps. I was still in a daze. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. The footsteps came closer, and closer. They got louder, and louder. They sounded like a waterfall in my ears. I had to be dying. But no. Men. Living, breathing, men; poured into my cell, as many as could fit inside it. A tall man was shouting orders at the front, but I couldn't understand a word.

The uniformed people got closer, and grabbed me. I tried to swat them away, but had not the energy. Was it already time for more torture? No, these were not the regular torturers. They were dressed differently, and their faces were splattered with blood. The men picked me up, and pushed something sharp into my arm. It must have been an anesthetic, because I began to fade away from this world. As I was carried out into the corridor, all I could see were bodies.

I wake up in a makeshift camp. Not dead! How is that possible. The familiar gray walls are gone, the gray walls i had become accustom to. I felt out of place without them. Those walls were my home now!! I started to panic, caused by my insanity; but then fresh air made its way into my small tent, such a strange thing. This abnormality of it caused to relax, i remembered the smell. From my past, which no longer exists to me. A man ran in, he must have heard my screams. He looked concerned, but whispered those infamous words. "You are safe." I believed him. He warned me not to stand up, but that didn't stop me from trying. Pain shot through my body, it had been to long I was not in control of my limbs. I slipped into unconsciousness.

After waking and passing out several more times, I finally manage to stay awake long enough to look at my surroundings. It is a tent, an ordinary tent. No luxury here. There is a small lamp in the corner, but what stands out most is my time capsule! What was it doing here?! There is a stack of paper lying next to it. My adrenalin peaks, I am still unstable, and I black out again.

Staying awake for a long time is not easy. The torture has changed me, I do not remember common things such as eating and walking. Writing is one of the few things I can still do. Between the short intervals of my consciousness, I write this journal... I am staying awake longer, and longer. And am managing to write this entire paragraph without slipping into the dark.

Figuring it out slowly, I must have been rescued. The lights, explosions. The bodies, my captors. The explosions must have had impact on me. It all makes sense... yet it doesnt. Who would rescue me? Who still alive would know I was missing? Questions I still do not have the answer to.

This is all I have to report. I...am.......safe. All I can hope is that I live long enough to write another journal. Farewell for now.


_____________________________________________________________

I shove the papers into the capsule, then fade away into darkness once again.
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Re: After The War

Post by Expatcat on Wed Feb 17, 2010 9:14 pm

Journal #4



So much has been revealed... I have no choice but to start at the beginning. The camp, that's right. That seems so far away now, though it was only a few days ago.

Eventually, the black outs were uncommon. I was stabilizing, and getting a grip on reality. Unfortunately, It hit me hard. All that torture had deformed me, causing endless pain. The doctors did the best they could, but I still had serious injuries that would haunt me forever. It seems I am not destined to forget those days, weeks, who knows how long anymore. They tell me a month, I don't know if I should believe them. They still haven't told me who they are, they want to make sure my "mind has healed" first.

Finally, I can't take it. Remembering what they taught me in physical therapy, I hoist myself up. Slowly, but steadily, I walk outside. Several men rush to my side, but I hold them back. Screaming would only make things worse. I must show them I am back to normal. Slowly walking up to the leader, I try to push calm into my face. I am so desperate for answers though, it is not easy. Without emotion, I ask the question. I thought I was prepared for the answer. Is a deer prepared to get hit by a car?

Without any questions, he layed it on me.

My city had been taken over by a small rebel group who called themselves "The Saviors." They had been moving from city to city at random, destroying and burning everything they come across. They believe that only through war comes peace, so they make their motive to "Bring peace to the land." Bull. The group has gotten stronger, and stronger, and been around longer than any other Rebel Groups. They are the originals. Not making their move for many months, they grow large. Too large. Nobody sees it coming, Rebels have only ever been minor threats.

When they arrived at my city, the situation was the same. Except a small group of troops from another one of our territories had seen them coming. He alerted the city right before The Saviors hit, and the evac alarm was sounded. However, most of the city slept through it, sirens were so common nobody thought twice analyze the sound of it... and realize it was not the battle siren. Few actually managed to escape. The Saviors killed anyone in sight. Those that didn't die, were taken.

Turns out they knew nothing about me, but were intrigued by my will during torture. Not that I remember anything from the fort, those memories faded like a dream. We managed to capture the one in charge, and he told me everything. He told me how I refused to give them the pleasure of death that they looked for in torture. He told me that I was the calmest of them all. They could not get the suffering they wanted from me, so they decided to drag my torture out. Revenge for not pleasing them.

Meanwhile, the survivors rallied men from other territories belonging to us, and planned a rescue. Little did they know, nobody was left. There was no mistaking I was the only survivor. The Fort of The Saviors was searched inside out, only bodies were found.

They took me back to the city, it was all rubble. More than it was before. It was then that the full force of the war hit me. Always had I looked down upon it, participating in the battles halfheartedly. But now I was submerged in the full force of the death. The brink of insanity again, only briefly.

The worse part, I am now on the front lines. The people I stay with are soldiers out on a mission, and I know enough that going back is not an option for them. Besides, there is nowhere to "go back" to anyways. I have no home to return to. The only part I will enjoy about this group, they are dedicated to wiping out The Saviors.

Tomorrow, we head out. We are taking on a small group of The Saviors who have a camp not far from here. Ambush. This is the most revenge I will get, for now. And oh...do i want that revenge. No matter how many times I try to calm it, it roars up again and engulfs my mind. Will it ever be gone?


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Another day, another journal. I toss it into the capsule and watch the crackle of electricity. I can't help but wonder, is anyone reading my journals? Or are they lying in some abandon house.
I begin my physical therapy, which they make more complicated and painful every day. No complaining though, I will need to be in my best shape for making those "Saviors" suffer until THEY want to kill themselves. Still trying to push revenge from my head. Failing.
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Re: After The War

Post by Expatcat on Wed Feb 17, 2010 9:15 pm

Journal #5



What... what have I done... my memories aren't clear. The mind is truly the greatest enemy out there. I am alone, so very alone...

The ambush. We were planning an ambush, but we were too slow. On the night before we had the attack planned, WE were the ones ambushed. The Saviors were one step ahead of us, there was nothing anyone in the camp could do. Whether it was out of instinct or rage, I grabbed a weapon and stood. A dagger, that was what I had grabbed. They had guns, and swords. All I had was a dagger.

There was fighting all around me, but most of those on my side were killed before the battle even started. This is when things got... out of control. What I did was to gruesome to go into detail... for my sake and yours. A sheet of red came across my vision, and a bullet buried itself into my shoulder. My emotion and bloodlust took over. There was nothing I could do to control myself, revenge was at the wheel. It was a series of minor blackouts, more people dead around me every time I wake up.

I don't know how many I killed in our camp... and I don't just mean enemies. Everyone... I had killed... everyone. There was no difference between friend and foe. I didn't care. The screams of my allies, as the realize what is happening. Those screams will never leave me. What drove me to do this, I do not know. I had killed my enemies, along with my only allies. Alone. So alone.

I did not stop there, though. By myself, I charged in the direction of the attack. The Saviors camp... it was not like the way we lived. There were innocent people there. But at that point, I saw them all as the enemy. The enemy I would make suffer.

There is no end to the pain I caused them and myself in that camp. Men, Women. Fathers, Mothers. Children. Everyone. They tried to stop me, but I was being driven by a cruel, unstoppable force. The flashbacks still echo in my mind, as I sit huddled in this corner. Every time I came to my senses, more bodies. There must have been hundreds in that camp... but I killed them all. Nobody escaped. No heartbeats were heard for miles around.

I only have the flashbacks to remind me of what I did, they do not let me forget. Waking up inside The Saviors camp, I see the dead bodies. They surround me, I am afraid to move. Coated in blood, I thought it was my own. Then I remember again... Souls of innocents haunt me. It was not a battle, it was a slaughter. It takes all my will to stop the tears, and the screaming. Writing this journal is my only way of feeling a connection to the outside world. But in my heart, I know I am..... alone.

______________________________________________________________


I slam the papers as hard as I can into the capsule, unsure whether it was out of frustration or anger at myself. Huddling further into the corner, the tears flow again. Crying... something I had not experienced since I was a child. Screams echo back at me, taunting me... showing me the monster I am.
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Re: After The War

Post by Expatcat on Wed Feb 17, 2010 9:15 pm

Journal #6


Days, months, years, I lost track long ago. There is nowhere for me to go, and I have everything I need right here. Am I happy?Better question, am I sad? One cannot be sad if they have never been happy.

The memory of the camp no longer disturbs me. I am ashamed to admit that, the guilt left with my humanity. With nowhere to run, and no food, I was forced to hunt. Killing the animal wasn't the sickening part, eating it raw was. There were no supplies, all were destroyed in the slaughter.

Eventually, I came to enjoy the taste. I am not proud of it, though. Blood was now a regular thing for me... and it would quench my thirst. These are things I wouldn't have dared do before, but it is amazing how low one will stoop when their life is in danger.

Eventually, small scouting parties came into the wasteland. There was no way of telling soldier from Savior... so I just killed them all. Eventually, I found that human meat tasted much better than that of the animals... and their blood more rich.

Call me what you will, I did it for survival. I lost what was human of me in the process, but I have no regrets. What I did kept me alive, or at least long enough. Long enough to have my vengeance on the Savior leader... I heard about him from some travelers, likely Saviors. Turns out he was the one who ordered my torture, and the slaughter of my city. The best part? He's not far from my current location. It will not be long... soon I will have revenge.

These journals are the only thing that keep my tied to my race, and I will not abandon them. My old life is left behind, this is the beginning of a new era for me. I refuse to return to society... my only goal now is to eliminate The Saviors. There is no plan for after that.

And this is the end of this Journal, a truly sickening tale. But trust me, I accepted my fate... you will come to accept it too. It's not quite as sickening to me anymore... sometimes I consider this little fantasy enjoyable.

______________________________________________________


I close the journal, ripping a page with my overgrown fingernails... useful for tearing into flesh. Slowly standing, I hear voices not far away. Human voices... perfect. I give a devilish smile, showing off my red-tinted teeth. Setting off with no weapons (They just get in the way of the kill) I slowly moved to the sound of the voices. Feasting time... this was going to be fun.
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Re: After The War

Post by Expatcat on Wed Feb 17, 2010 9:18 pm

Journal #7- FINAL JOURNAL


This is my last journal. I couldn't?t just leave you with a cliffhanger, so I will finish up. Until now I didn't?t realize the pointlessness of these journals? after this one I will sell the capsule. Prepare for the climax, friends.

Forgive me if I seem a bit too layed back? almost insane?but victory is so sweet. Ah, but I am getting ahead of myself. A good writer never gives away the ending, am I right? Well, this is going to be a long one. Hope you enjoy, haha.

After all those wonderful days of hunting and feasting, I finally reached The Saviors HQ. A tall building, large, bigger than any I had ever seen before. It loomed in front of me, threatening. There was no color to the ominous building, just gray. Presumably to get rid off wanderers, but I had come too far to be afraid.

Several guards patrolled the entrance. Too anxious for strategy, I ran right out into the open. The fight did not last long? I remain undefeated. Shame I couldn't?t see the joy in fighting before? and killing. Is this why we love war so much? Do we enjoy the sight of blood, and death? Fascinating.

The minor fights mean nothing. They are anti-climatic and I wouldn't?t want to ruin my tale, haha. Let me make this part quick, for it bores even me. The place was well guarded, but not well enough. It was big, indeed. And I easily choked the location of their leader out of a dying guard.

Now, sorry for skimming all of that. But it isn't?t important. The important part is the big boss:

Arriving at the top of the main tower, I had made it to the end. I either win or lose here, I had no plan for afterwards. The door stood looming over me. No time for fear now. Giving it a hard shove, I was surprised to find that it was already open. As I entered, a shadow moved in the corner of the room. Immediately establishing a defensive position, the shadow spoke. ?Welcome, Seth Logan.?

Seth Logan? so familiar, yet so unfamiliar. The name I was given as a child, and abandon soon afterwards. Nobody knew it though? nobody! It gave away me connection the The Logans? my parents. A group of insane psychopaths. Murderers, cannibals? everything I had become lately. If someone found out I was a Logan? they would have killed me a long time ago to avoid genetic mental corruption.

?You are probably wondering how I know your name?? The stranger seemed to be enjoying my shock. ?Lets just say I am an old friend of your parents? more or less the one that introduced them to the joys of death.? A small laugh escaped the mans throat, ?You and I aren?t that different Seth. Can?t you see what you have become? A true successor to your parents? Im sure they would be proud.? This time, he burst out laughing. Without being able to control myself, I charged the man at full speed. He pulled something from his waist, a knife. He took a jab, but at the sight of the weapon I slowed down enough to make an imperfect dodge.

?Almost forgot, you can call me Skyler!!? The man went into a hysterical laugh and ran right at me, pulling out a gun in the process. I had nothing quite that advance, and was defenseless when he pulled the trigger mid-jog. The bullet traveled to fast, and nailed me in the shoulder. Falling to the ground, I winced. However, the torture had made me immune to this minor pain.

Thinking he had won, the man pompously tossed the gun aside and walked over to my body. ?I take it back, you are so much weaker than your parents.? On that note, I bring up my only weapon. A long, handmade knife. Before he knows what hits him, the knife is driven through Skyler?s heart. His eyes go wide, he lets loose a final chuckle, and dies on top of me.

The insane bastard is dead, and I speak to you now from the floor of this room. The bleeding continues, and I grow weak. The injury is too great, I have dodged death too many times. Blood oozes out onto the floor?, and I lay there, laughing to myself. Thinking about all the people I killed. No longer did regret haunt my mind. A murderer I had become, a cannibal and lunatic. But I was a smart lunatic, if that makes sense. The deadliest kind? this is my final journal. Farewell, my fans! Hahahahahaha


________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I sat there, laughing like a lunatic. Laughing endlessly, in a psychopathic fit. Laughed until the world faded around me. Laughed until my final breath.
END
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